There’s something about being carried

That night she chose insanity over loneliness.
Threw the stick shift mind out the window
and followed her autopilot heart:
eyes off the road 
and glazed over unfamiliar
walls and ceilings.

By foot was no way to travel;
she travelled as fog over
gentle hills and ridges,
arriving as all but water.

Smoke rising over her head,
fire rolling along her thighs,
lukewarm spaces replaced debris.

Breath for expression,
fingers for words,
lips for giving,
legs for staying exactly where you are.

That morning she chose sleep over the sun.

Wednesday Sep 10 @ 06:34am

Two wrongs don’t make a right.
Two wrongs mean you’re not alone.

Tuesday Sep 9 @ 10:57am
Secretive? No.
You mistook the dark ground 
for depth and dimension. 
Definitely not secretive.
The word you’re looking for is shallow.

Some people are boxes,
others are plates.
You were so attracted to the surface
because the outside is my entirety.
Everything conveniently in the first impression.

Stop poking and prodding.
When you see the inside of a box
it means it is open.
But if you see mine it means 
I am broken.

One is for loving 
and the other for using.

Secretive? No.
You mistook the dark ground
for depth and dimension.
Definitely not secretive.
The word you’re looking for is shallow.

Some people are boxes,
others are plates.
You were so attracted to the surface
because the outside is my entirety.
Everything conveniently in the first impression.

Stop poking and prodding.
When you see the inside of a box
it means it is open.
But if you see mine it means
I am broken.

One is for loving
and the other for using.

Friday Aug 29 @ 08:27am
When you came close to me, the skeletons in my closet rattled their bones.
And I hoped you didn’t hear them. Or thought they were just sounds made up by your mind.
But one day, the closet’s lock broke and all the bones came tumbling out.
You didn’t run.
One by one you helped me pick up the skulls: “these are faceless, from another time.”
And we buried them in the backyard. 
And that dark closet is empty.
My backyard full of flowers.

When you came close to me, the skeletons in my closet rattled their bones.
And I hoped you didn’t hear them. Or thought they were just sounds made up by your mind.
But one day, the closet’s lock broke and all the bones came tumbling out.
You didn’t run.
One by one you helped me pick up the skulls: “these are faceless, from another time.”
And we buried them in the backyard.
And that dark closet is empty.
My backyard full of flowers.

Friday Aug 29 @ 03:41am

mylifeaskriz:

ruineshumaines:

Liz Climo on Tumblr.

this really cheered me up

Friday Aug 29 @ 03:18am
Freshwater

I.
And she was all salt water.
You won’t find anyone who 
worked so hard that 
she was all sweat 
and when she realized it
was all for nothing 
she was all tears. 

II.
There was a time you held
the ocean in your arms.
So cold and distant but
she held you too  
in the soft pockets of warmth
between the waves.

III.
You turn on the tap and
it’s not the same.

IV.
Stay under the covers
until the silk feels like skin.
Curl up so tightly
that you become waterproof.

V. 
Freshwater boy.
Cries for no one.
There is flow,
but no waves.

Thursday Aug 28 @ 10:05am
Can’t Stay Now

I.

And your past is like the stars:
each once as brilliant or even more so than the sun.
But old glory will not warm your bones.

II.

She was otherworldly,
and now that is all she’ll be.

Saturday Aug 16 @ 04:57am
Avoiding Blame

I thought I knew my body well,
but I still can’t find that bum foot that keeps getting me stuck in ruts.
Those fingers with white knuckles that hold onto the people I shouldn’t touch.
The eyes that never look away long after I turn the opposite cheek.
The tongue that spits fire when I open the doors and the lips that stay closed when the river needs to run.
I thought I knew my body well,
but you know it even better.

You keep the hidden half hidden,
and I can never leave.

Saturday Aug 16 @ 04:35am
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